THE INVADER
By Alfred Coppel
[Transcriber Note: This etext was produced from Imagination Stories ofScience and Fantasy February 1953. Extensive research did not uncoverany evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
The Triomed advanced stealthily across the floor of the dark cell towardthe sleeping figure huddled in the corner. After the long, lonelyvoyage, the nearness to a host filled the Triomed with eageranticipation.
The tiny spaceship that had carried him into this lush planetary systemfar from the galaxy's heart lay well hidden behind him. So far as hecould tell, his descent had not been detected, and that was as it shouldbe—for he was a Triomed and a scientist. One of the finest in theservice of his dying race. Dying that is, until now, he thought. Nolonger would the race of Triomeds weaken and die for lack of suitablehosts. This third planet of the yellow sun was a paradise thick withwarm-blooded biped mammals....
The sleeping creature stirred uneasily, as though sensing the approachof danger. The Triomed froze into immobility. It was unlikely that hecould be seen, he knew, though the sense of sight was only a synthesizedabstraction to him. It was not one of his own proper senses, but he hadbeen able to detect at long distance that almost every living creatureon this planet received impressions through certain specialized organsmounted on and within their structure. There were plants, of course, asthere were on Triom, but they were unimportant.
There were viruses, too, and he had been afraid when he had discoveredthis fact that he had arrived too late. But the first attempts atestablishing communication had relieved the Triomed of his fears. Theindigenous viruses were primitive; not at all like his own illustriousancestors of ancient Triom.
The sleeping biped relaxed and the Triomed inched forward again, a flat,almost two dimensional smear of glistening matter on the floor in frontof the biped.
From high above the planet's night side, the Triomed had sensed thecity. He had absorbed its shape and size and meaning while his craftsettled through the heavy, oxygen-rich air. It was not enough that hisinstruments told of suitable hosts. He was a scientist and believed inabsolute proof. Also, he had been in space long—without thesatisfaction of a host—and he yearned for the rapport, the dominationof a warm-blooded creature.
There had been a dark segment in the brilliant pattern of the city. Anisland of solitude amid the myriad confluences. It was there that he hadlanded his tiny probe ship and hidden it among the thickly woodedglades. Almost immediately he had sensed the nearness of many creatures.Insects, plants, warm-blooded quadrupeds and bipeds. There had beenmachines and buildings and winding roadways among the trees. Darknesshad covered his progress until at last he found himself near thesleeping creature, ready to infiltrate and take command.
The glistening shape elongated, became a thread-like tendril of almostgossamer thickness. It touched the flesh of the sleeper and thrilledwith pleasure. Cautiously, the Triomed moved up the hairy leg, aninvisible strand of alien life close to the warm skin. Presently, thestrand found the opening it sought. It slithered imperceptibly into themoist warmth of the sleeper's nostril, moved through the tear-duct intothe space behind the eyeball. Here it prob